


Fifty Different Kinds

by ms_worplesdon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_worplesdon/pseuds/ms_worplesdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy knows a lot of things about himself. Including the fact that he wants to fuck Oliver Wood six ways from Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty Different Kinds

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Aylaranzz in the 2008 Summer Smut fest.

Percy knew that he was a bit uptight. In fact, he knew loads of things about himself that people might not have thought he’d picked up on. He was the very picture of self-awareness. He knew that he was what Muggles call a type-A personality. He knew that he was slightly obsessive about the physical order of his surroundings. He knew that he had extraordinarily long feet. He knew that he overcompensated for being the middle child by being an overachiever. He knew that he’d always wanted to fuck Oliver Wood six ways from Sunday.  
  
Well. Since he was 15, anyway.  
  
He’d been aware of his attraction ever since the time back at Hogwarts when he’d walked in on an unaware Oliver in the shower– who was happily soaping his body, singing to himself. His eyes had remained closed as he turned in a slow circle. Percy got an eyeful of his lovely, perfectly proportioned flaccid cock before he was presented with Oliver’s broad, lightly freckled back and two creamy, round buttocks. Percy wasn’t sure at the time why on earth he felt the urge to smash his face into them and knead them, but after a few good wanks he had that all sorted out.  
  
As a grown man working for the ministry, he tended to keep a low profile about his sexuality. In fact, he kept no profile at all. He was constantly teased by his brothers for being asexual. It’s not as though he had anything to be particularly secretive about. Ron was gay– with Draco Bloody Malfoy of all people– so he felt that simply not having had sex of any kind, despite having had an actual girlfriend, well... that wasn’t really anything to be ashamed of. Besides, he never really ran into anyone he was particularly attracted to anyway. It wasn’t a problem at all.  
  
Except that he was gagging for it. Merlin, he wanted to pound an arse so badly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Ron’s other birthday party was beginning to get out of hand. Rather loud and rowdy. Thankfully, it was being held at Narcissa Malfoy’s summer cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, so noise wasn’t a problem.  
  
Percy was sitting on the settee sipping a glass of punch, watching everyone else mill around the house. He was doing his best to blend into the upholstery. His best wasn’t good enough, much to his annoyance. Draco walked up to him, grabbed his wrist and fairly dragged him into the kitchen. He picked up an already full tumbler of what appeared to be firewhisky and handed it to Percy.  
  
“Drink,” he commanded.  
  
“Pardon me?” Percy spluttered.  
  
Draco simply leaned back against the counter and stared at him.  
  
“You heard me, Weaselby. I said drink.”  
  
“I hardly think you should be calling me that anymore, Percy retorted.  
  
Draco arched an eyebrow.  
  
“Won’t Ron withhold or something if he catches you saying that?”  
  
“Ah, now you might think so, but here’s how it actually works. I’m nice to Ron, for obvious reasons. Hell, I’m even nice to Scarhead and Granger, but I get to bully you as much as I like because you deserve it. What’s more, you need it. You need to let your hair down and stop behaving like a righteous prick. Now do us both a favor and drink.”  
  
Percy was bemused, to say the least. Still, he lifted the glass to his lips and downed the whole thing in two large glugs. Draco’s face broke into an enormous smile.  
  
“See? Now that wasn’t so very difficult, was it?”  
  
Percy shook his head, which was already feeling the whisky.  
  
“Why are you trying to get me sloshed?” he asked curiously, already holding his glass out for another. Which Draco promptly filled. “I don’t see the point of it.” He was honestly befuddled.  
  
“That’s simple. Sex.”  
  
Percy choked on his drink and began to cough rather violently. As his face turned positively crimson he felt Draco begin haphazardly slapping his back.  
  
“Get away from me, what are you mad?” he asked, gasping. He pointed his finger accusingly at Draco as he clung to the edge of the kitchen table. “I will under _no circumstances have sex with you_ ,” he croaked, wild eyed.  
  
Draco stared.  
  
“Not have it with–” He eyed Percy warily. “No, you utter moron. You can’t honestly be this thick.” His face took on a worried expression. “Can you?”  
  
“Sex with who, then?” he spat out.  
  
“Anyone,” Draco replied with a wave of his hands. “You’re not exactly going out of your way to get any, and I’m positive it’s been years for you– if you’ve ever had a proper shag at all, that is.”  
  
Percy blushed anew as he concentrated on sipping what was left of his drink.  
  
“You can’t be serious.” Draco stared at Percy in disbelief. “You mean that you’ve never at all? What about Clearwater? Didn’t you do  _anything_  with her?”  
  
“That’s none of your business,” he replied, stony faced.  
  
Draco chortled. “It is so my business. You’re practically family, and you’re a prig who’s just told me he’s a virgin.”  
  
“I did  _not_  tell you I was a virgin,” Percy said, a little louder than he’d intended.  
  
“Spare me the hysterics,” Draco shot back. “No one says ‘none of your business’ unless they’re hiding an embarrassing answer.”  
  
Percy fidgeted.  
  
“Next you’ll be handing me the ‘I don’t discuss my sexual orientation’ line,” he snickered.  
  
“Well I don’t,” he replied, finishing off his second whisky. He was feeling rather reckless, suddenly.  
  
“You’re gay! Hah! I  _knew_  it.” Draco looked positively gleeful. “Oh, this makes everything  _much_  more entertaining.”  
  
Just then someone stumbled into the kitchen.  
  
“Malfoy, you seen the– hello  _Percy._  There it is.”  
  
It was Oliver Wood. Like a vision come to torment him. His tall, muscular frame was wrapped in a white t-shirt and arse-hugging grey cotton trousers. He grabbed the half-full bottle of Ogden’s and slung an arm around Percy’s shoulder. His dark hair smelled far too good, in Percy’s opinion.  
  
“Oh good, you’ve started already,” he observed, eyeing Percy’s glass. He’d quite obviously already had a few. “Come on, let’s go get pissed in the garden. Air’s bloody gorgeous.”  
  
Which was how Percy found himself an hour later arse over tit with an equally inebriated Oliver.  
  
“I’d no idea you could throw that far. Impressive!” Oliver thumped Percy on the back.  
  
Percy peered above his spectacles as he gauged how far to throw the next gnome.  
  
“You still haven’t told me what you’ve been doing with yourself for the past, what–” Oliver began counting off on his fingers. “Four years now since the war? Long time,” he observed.  
  
“Er...well...um, just working in the minister’s office. I’m his...secretary? Is that right?”  
  
Oliver grinned. “He ever make you wear stockings, then?” he joked, winking as he passed the whisky. Percy flushed and took the proffered bottle.  
  
“Alas, no.”  
  
Percy blinked. Did he really just say that?  
  
Oliver looked at him with surprise. “Loosening up a bit, are we Percy? Very good! I knew you had it in you. Heels, too?”  
  
“Shh,” Percy replied with a finger by his lips. “It’s a  _very important job_.”  
  
At which point he collapsed gracelessly onto the grass. He reached for the bottle as he sat up.  
  
“What about you? Still playing? Obviously. Of course you are. I knew that.”  
  
“Still riding the broomstick,” Oliver replied with another wink.  
  
“You keep right on riding that broomstick, Oliver,” Percy burped. “Pardon me,” he stage whispered.  
  
Oliver laughed as he spread himself out on the grass, resting his head on Percy’s outstretched legs. His head was warm and Percy reached out, unthinkingly, to run his fingers through the other man’s hair.  
  
“I like broomsticks. That’s why I got divorced,” Oliver said lazily.  
  
Percy’s hand stilled.  
  
“Div-divorced? Didn’t she know she didn’t like quidditch when she married you?” Percy’s face scrunched up into a confused expression.  
  
Oliver peered up at him with half-lidded eyes.  
  
“Don’t stop. That felt nice.” He made a snuffly little noise of pleasure as Percy’s fingers resumed their course through his hair. “Yeah, broomsticks. Eh, that and the con-con.”  
  
“Con-con? I don’t follow. Tell me, tell me about the con-con. Con-con-con seriously?”  
  
“Percy, you’re babbling ” Oliver grinned. “The con-con was our pre-nuptial agreement. Contract of Consent. I need another drink...this gets complicated.” He grabbed the bottle and took a sloppy swig while still laying down. “Marie was a very high-maintenance lassie. She had very...specific requirements for how things were conducted every- well, for everything. Cleaning, meals, work, money, vacations, sex. So we had a contract that she could refer to. She called it a set of guidelines, but I called it inexorable shite. You know she kept a log?”  
  
“A log?” Percy looked confused. “A log of what?”  
  
“Ah, well. She’d give me one blow job per fortnight, no more, no less. I had to do her twice as often.”  
  
“You  _must_  be joking,” Percy said, thumping Oliver on the chest.  
  
“Really, she did. I shit you not, my friend.  _Per_ cy, Percy. You are my friend aren’t you, Perce?” He gazed up at Percy with a happy smile.  
  
Percy smiled back down at him. “‘Course I am, mate.”  
  
Oliver proceeded let out a rather fantastic belch.  
  
“Good. She’s barking. Went completely mental when I suggested she bugger my arse with a strap-on.”  
  
Percy made a choking sound as he felt all the blood rush south.  
  
“‘Course, that would never be as good as the real thing, but at least I was trying. Wasn’t I?” he asked earnestly.  
  
Percy nodded quickly. His hand continued to rub at Oliver’s scalp, only slightly harder.  
  
“And we won’t even get into the ladies clothing. No, it was broomsticks. I like blokes. Like to hang out with them and their  _cocks_ ,” he said with a flourish.  
  
“Oh?” He tried to swallow at the knot in his throat that was forming, but it was no use. Percy’s nervousness came back full force.  
  
“Aye,” Oliver replied. He sat up and looked across at Percy speculatively. Percy could sense the shift in the conversation before it even happened. “I don’t suppose you like broomsticks, too, do you?”  
  
Percy stared at Oliver’s mouth for a moment before he spoke.  
  
“I’m sorry? Quidditch?” he babbled.  
  
“Oh Percy,” Oliver chuckled, shaking his head.  
  
“I support Puddlemere U.” He knew there was something else important he should be addressing, but he was once again distracted by Oliver’s face. Which was much, much closer than before. “You smell good,” he choked out.  
  
Percy’s eyes widened at his own admission. Oliver’s smile made his eyes crinkle.  
  
“Well, I guess that answers my question.”  
  
Oliver’s lips were surprisingly soft. Percy felt the warm tongue darting at his lips as they were gently pulled between Oliver’s. He let go and let his glide alongside, circling and sucking. It was better than he ever could have imagined.  
  
“You even  _taste_  good,” he breathed.  
  
“Fuck, Percy. You’re trembling,” Oliver whispered in wonder.  
  
“If you two are going to bugger each other would you mind not doing it in the garden where everyone can see you?”  
  
Percy looked up to see several blonde and ginger figures floating above him.  
  
“I think I’m going to be sick.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Oh, bloody hell, he couldn’t open his eyes! Panic set in rather quickly, causing Percy to begin blindly flailing about letting out choked whimpers.  
  
“Bloody buggering fuck where am I?” he said frantically.  
  
“Calm down Percy. It’s me.”  
  
“Oliver?” He tried to sit upright and breathe, but his head was pounding. “I can’t open my eyes. I think someone must have hexed me.”  
  
He felt Oliver sit down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Percy felt his heart begin to race all over again.  
  
“Just stay still for a moment and I’ll fix it,” he instructed. Percy heard him mutter a spell and he opened his eyes.  
“Thanks for that. What sort of hex does that, anyway?” he wondered aloud. Oliver chuckled.  
  
“Think your eyes were just glued shut, mate. Here, drink this.” He handed Percy a steaming cup of coffee, smiling. “There’s hangover potion in there.”  
  
“That hasn’t happened to me since I was little. Thank you, Oliver.”  
  
“Anytime.”  
  
Percy looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was on a large, beaten up old chesterfield that was surprisingly comfortable. The walls were royal blue. There were at least 5 brooms propped up against the wall by the door, and what was once a tiny gas fireplace was obviously modified to take floo calls. The entire room was cluttered, but to Percy’s trained eye it appeared that there was an underlying order at work.  
  
“This must be your place, then?” he asked. Oliver nodded.  
  
“It is indeed. You weren’t in any shape to go home by yourself last night, so I just brought you home with me. We’re the next town over from Hogsmeade, so I just sort of dragged you back here. I asked Draco but he said he was too pissed to tell me where you live. It was one hell of a party, too, because I couldn’t even find a vacant bedroom to put you in! I could have sworn I saw–”  
  
“I wish I could remember,” Percy interrupted. Oliver’s face fell instantly.  
  
“Remember? You don’t remember last night?” Oh no, Percy thought. He must have made a right arse of himself.  
  
“I remember getting a lecture from Draco, then gnome tossing with you, and then...that’s it.” He sat thinking, with his brow furrowed.  
  
“Oh,” Oliver replied softly. “Well, we were both pretty drunk and–” he looked at Percy searchingly, then seemed to decide upon something. “I suppose that was about it, then. You threw up into Narcissa’s shrubbery and then I thought I’d better find you someplace to sleep it off.”  
  
Percy shuddered at the thought of leaving a trail of emesis in someone’s garden. He gulped his coffee down in three goes and felt instantly better.  
  
“Thanks for looking after me.” He picked up his glasses from the end table and put them on. “I really appreciate it. I don’t usually drink that much, but I was threatened,” he said with a wry smile.  
  
Oliver smiled back. “No need to thank me. I was happy to do it. I would never have left you to fend for yourself.” He looked thoughtful. “Seeing as it’s Saturday, would you like to get together and catch up tonight? Our paths don’t cross very much and it would be nice to have...er see you, I mean.”  
  
Percy felt the color rise in his cheeks. Oh, if  _only_.  
  
“Yes, absolutely. What would you like to do?”  
  
Oliver’s face brightened instantly.  
  
“Meet me at Frigg’s at seven?” he suggested.  
  
“Alright. I’ll see you there.”  
  
As Percy apparated back to his flat, he thought about what a waste the last night had been. All of that time spent with Oliver and he could hardly remember any of it. Shame.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That afternoon as Percy stood in the shower, he came to the conclusion that it would be idiocy not to have one off before going to meet Oliver. He didn’t want to scare him off with any awkward moments. It probably counted as a  _must not do_  to appear openly attracted to one’s straight friend.  
  
As Percy got dressed he realized that he must have left his favorite jacket at the Malfoy cottage. He apparated over and knocked on the door.  
  
Draco answered and stood with his hand on the door and a wicked grin on his face.  
  
“Well, well, well. Look what the kneazle dragged in.”  
  
“Draco. I think I left my jacket here. May I come in?”  
  
“I suppose so.” He opened the door to let Percy through. “Try the kitchen.”  
  
“So tell me about last night,” Draco prodded as he followed Percy to the kitchen.  
  
“Oh. Right. Look, I’m sorry about the shrubbery. If you can tell me which one it was I’ll go have a look and make sure that–”  
  
“No, no. I’m not interested in your vomit, you imbecile. Tell me about Oliver. Did you get your leg over?”  
  
Percy was confused. Get a leg over? From Oliver?  
  
“Are you drunk?” he couldn’t help but ask.  
  
“Percy. You are an idiot. How many times must I tell you this?”  
He spotted his jacket slung across the back of a kitchen chair and picked it up. Draco continued.  
  
“I find you drunkenly snogging in the garden and you ask me if I’ve been drinking.”  
  
“Wait, we were  _what?_ ” Percy couldn’t believe his ears.  
  
“Salazar’s beard, you are completely hopeless. Ron and I found you on the verge of shagging Oliver in the garden and you don’t  _remember?_ ” Draco shook his head in disbelief as he stared. “RON!” His shout made Percy jump.  
  
“What?” Ron shouted from down the hallway. He came through the door toweling his hair off. “Oh, hey Percy!”  
  
“Your brother is fifty different kinds of watery twat,” Draco announced, his eyes still never leaving Percy. Ron sighed.  
  
“What’s he done now?”  
  
“You remember that we found him snogging Oliver in the garden? You remember that we specifically didn’t tell Oliver where he lives? You remember that Oliver brought Percy home with him last night?”  
  
“Yes, yes and yes,” Ron nodded.  
  
“Well, the arse doesn’t remember any of it.” Ron gaped.  
  
“Merlin, Percy! What is wrong with you? We went out of our way there!”  
  
Percy sniffed. This was all very confusing and he was most certainly breaking capillaries maintaining a blush this long.  
  
“I thought Oliver was straight. Besides which, isn’t he married?”  
  
“He just got divorced you stupid prick,” Draco replied helpfully.  
  
“And yes, he’s pretty bent,” added Ron. Percy was nonplussed.  
  
“Well then. What will I say when I see him?” His face fell into a worried expression.  
  
“Yes, well who knows when that will be now that you’ve so royally fucked it up. Your incompetency knows no bounds.” As Draco’s words sank in, Percy felt smug and nervous all at once. He couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“I’ll be seeing him in about thirty minutes, actually. At Frigg’s.” He watched Draco’s face as this bit of information sank in.  
  
“Frigg’s?” Draco looked impressed. “But that’s a romantic restaurant.”  
  
“Yes,” Percy replied. “I suppose it is. I hadn’t thought of that.”  
“So all is not lost, then?” Ron suggested, looking at Draco, who shrugged.  
  
“We shall see, my love. We shall see.”  
  
Draco’s skeptical and strangely threatening stare was difficult to get out of his mind. Until he remembered where he was headed, that is.  
  
He wondered what sort of trousers Oliver would be wearing.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Percy’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Oliver sitting across the room. He took the opportunity to stare for a moment. Oliver was dressed in a suit– that was a surprise. Charcoal, single breasted by the look of it, with a blue silk tie. His chocolate hair was a little mussed, and his brown eyes were sparkling. A tiny smile played at his lips as he ran his finger up the side of his water glass.  
He looked beautiful.  
  
Percy checked himself quickly. His own outfit was a bit shabbier, but at least it was comfortable and fit him well. He’d been invited out. He could do this. He braced himself and crossed the room.  
  
“Hullo Oliver.” Oliver grinned and rose to clap Percy on the back and pull out his chair.  
  
“Percy! I’ve ordered some wine already. Hope that’s alright.” He looked nervous, and Percy felt a new confidence begin to form. This was looking suspiciously like a date, and there was only one way to find out if that was really the case.  
  
“Perfectly, yes. White?”  
  
  
  
After two glasses of wine and plenty of amusing small talk, Percy felt the time was right to broach the subject of his poor memory.  
  
“I have something to apologise for. I’ve been told that I may have forgotten some...things that happened. Last night. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry and I hope that I didn’t upset you in any way.”  
  
Oliver looked at him, concerned.  
  
“I’m the one who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have forced myself on you in that state. It’s just...it was a bit difficult to control myself. Don’t get the wrong idea, we didn’t do anything but kiss. Well, I may have felt you up a bit, but again, no control,” he admitted with a frown.  
  
Percy flushed and felt himself begin to stiffen. Thank Merlin they were still sitting down.  
“It’s quite alright. I’m sure I have very little self control when I’ve been drinking, too.”  
  
Oliver shook his head slightly.  
  
“No, that’s not why. I mean because of you.”  
  
“Me?” Percy’s mouth went dry and he reached for a sip of water.  
  
“Aye, thee,” he chuckled. “You were always a dirty little fantasy of mine, you know.” Oliver’s face fell as he seemed to realize what he’d just said. “Though, I can understand if you’re not interested.”  
  
Percy shook his head quickly. His cock was about to burst out of his trousers.  
  
“No. No, I’m interested. I had...I had no idea.” Percy drained the rest of his wine glass and when he looked back up Oliver looked as though he were about to pounce across the table.  
  
“I think we need to pay and get out of here,” Oliver said. His voice was scratchy and low.  
Percy grabbed several galleons and slammed them on the table.  
  
“Apparate from the bathrooms?”  
  
Oliver nodded.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They Side-alonged to Oliver’s place. They were a tangle of limbs as they Apparated next to the bed.  
  
“I’ve never done this before,” Percy admitted. “At all.”  
  
“Shh. It’s not a problem.” Oliver leaned in and kissed him softly. Percy felt his mouth continue a path down his neck.  
  
“You don’t... _ohhhh_...don’t stop, it’s... _unhhh_...can you... _fucking hell_.” Percy was a gibbering wreck. Oliver’s mouth was so soft and warm and wet and was in places and Percy had never felt anything so stimulating and wonderful.  
  
Until Oliver grabbed his prick through his trousers. Slightly more stimulating.  
  
“I’ve wanted to do this since Hogwarts, you know,” Oliver breathed into his ear.  
  
Percy ran his nose through Oliver’s hair, inhaling, then pressed his mouth into his neck.  
“Really? You smell amazing. I can’t describe it.”  
  
“You smell like parchment. That’s always made me hard as a rock.”  
  
“What did you think about at Hogwarts?” Percy asked, panting.  
  
Oliver nuzzled into his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so.  
  
“I remember seventh year. You were head boy. I used to imagine you finding me out after hours. You’d punish me.” Oliver thrust into Percy’s hip as he worked on the fastenings.  
  
“P-punish you? Punish you howhuuhohwuh.” Long fingers were wrapped around Percy’s cock. He was lost to the pleasure as Oliver stroked up and down. “You’re going to make me–”  
  
Percy’s orgasm took him by surprise as he spilled all over Oliver’s fingers. Oliver lifted his hand and sucked on a finger, his eyes boring into Percy’s. Percy whimpered.  
  
“Fuck me that’s hot.”  
  
Oliver pulled back and fixed him with an intense stare.  
  
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were interested?”  
  
“I thought you were straight.”  
  
“Pssh.”  
  
“You were very naughty not to say anything.”  
  
Oliver’s eyes glistened.  
  
“Strip,” Percy whispered. He was shocked at his own daring.  
  
“Anything you say,” Oliver breathed back.  
  
He watched as every glorious inch of skin was exposed. Oliver’s cock was hard and gorgeous and the tip was wet and Percy’s mouth was watering and he had nearly decided to kneel down and suck on it...   
  
“Turn around.”  
  
Those creamy buttocks that he’d wanked to for so many years were right there in front of him.  
  
Oliver looked back over his shoulder. When he saw the look on Percy’s face he visibly shuddered.   
  
Suddenly, despite his lack of experience, the years of pining, despite everything, Percy knew exactly what to do. He began to strip hastily.  
  
“Bend over the edge of the bed.”  
  
“Yes.” Oliver was practically vibrating.  
  
Once that beautiful arse was laid out before him, he couldn’t keep his face away. He placed rough kisses to both cheeks, kneading and biting. Oliver quivered beneath him, his hips thrusting lightly.  
  
“Do it. I want you to do it.”  
  
Percy’s first blow landed with a loud smack. Oliver gasped.  
  
“You should have said, Oliver.”  
  
 _smack_  
  
“You could have told me back then.”  
  
 _smack_  
  
“I would have fucked you wherever, whenever you liked.”

 _smack_  
  
“I’ve wanted you since we were fifteen.”  
  
 _smack_  
  
“I watched you in the shower.”  
  
 _smack_  
  
“Merlin, yes!” Oliver moaned. “Fuck me Percy.”  
  
Two quick spells later and he was thrusting in and out of Oliver’s warm tight channel like he was born to it.  
  
As Oliver came all over his fingers, Percy felt the last remnants of his inhibition fall away, never to be seen again.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Can we do this again sometime?” Percy asked hopefully.  
  
Oliver pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head.  
  
“Of course we can. You were brilliant. I like you a lot. A  _lot_  a lot.”

“Really? That’s  _won_ derful,” Percy sighed.  
  
“Besides,” Oliver went on. “You haven’t seen me in a skirt yet.”

 

_fin_


End file.
